


Magic Week

by tropicalgothic



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Naruto Magic Week 2019, SasoKaru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-05-31 06:06:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19420006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tropicalgothic/pseuds/tropicalgothic
Summary: A collection of short stories for the Naruto Magic Week. It centers on mostly Sunagakure characters navigating through either their original universe (except some things are not what they seem), or another magical universe.





	1. Forgotten Magic

“She disappeared!”

“Yes, she disappeared,” Karura said, her hands positioned like feet padding up up up through the air, “She climbed the tree for days. It was taller than any tree in Suna!”

“Nooo,” Temari insisted.

“It was,” Karura laughed, with a twinkle in her eye, she extended her arms as wide as they would go. “It was this thick! And tall! Taller than Dad’s work building!” She stood up on the tips of her toes, as if it could show her daughter just how large the tree was.

“Then what?” Temari asked, standing up too— the tree was too tall for her to reach. But if she could grow taller, and taller, taller than Dad’s work building, maybe it’s not that hard to climb.

“Then,” Uncle Yasha peeked from the door way with a sleeping Kankuro in his arms, “good girls have to sleep so they’ll hear the end of the story tomorrow.”

Temari pouted and flopped back down to bed. “Can I have five more minutes?”

Karura brushed her daughter’s hair away from her face. The low lamp light casting soft shadows against eyes that tried their best not to look sleepy. “I gave you ten minutes just a while ago, remember? Sleep, babes. We’ll continue the story tomorrow.”

“Then Princess Iron Fan after?”

“Yes, babes.”

“Mum,” Temari slid under the covers while Karura tucked her in, “I’m gonna draw the lady priest tomorrow,” she declared, “She’s gonna have gold hair like me.”

“Well,” Karura closed her eyes, “She had beautiful long red hair. She usually kept it in a bun— but liked to braid it some times.”

Temari scrunched her nose. “I don’t like red.”

Karura laughed, “Oh, but her eyes were green. Those are just like,” a poke on her daughter’s nose, “yours.”

The three year old said nothing and just looked up at mom. “What’s the color of your eyes?”

“I don’t know,” Karura said, one eye open and looking at Temari (closer and closer) until she giggled. “What do you think?”

“Purple! I’m gonna draw you too!” 

“Sleep now, babes.”

x.X.x

“I love those stories,” Yashamaru laughed as he dried another dish. He quite liked the repetitive motions of washing dishes— but only if it came with good conversation. “Mama had quite the adventurous life, didn’t she?”

“If you believe the stories,” Karura stuck her tongue out.

“You don’t?” Yashamaru laid the last of the dishes on the rack.

Karura sank to one of the chairs in the kitchen. Her memories of Mama have always been shrouded in mystery. Like peering into the distance, not knowing what was real or a mirage. She was tall in Karura’s memories. She held her back straight, her head high, and with a levelled voice that was always confident. And bright green eyes that knew no lies.

Of course, those had been the memories of a 7 year old girl— now cut from a lineage and a history she never truly got to know. Everything after that was shrouded in questions. Like peering through a veil of tears when they were being hauled into the orphanage.

“I don’t know, Yasha,” she confessed. A beat. “But I do know you’re doing me the biggest of favors by staying here tonight.”

The quiet descended over them and Yashamaru found his own chair to sink into. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not fair.”

“I just can’t stay in this house,” she forced a smile. Yashamaru doesn’t meet her eyes. “Rasa knows how I feel about the decision. I doubt he’ll be surprised— if he comes home from work at all tonight.”

“I’ll make sure he has something to eat when he comes back,” a hand over hers.

“Could you?” She held his hand, and the tears forming at the edge of her eyes. “The peace treaty. The reparations. I hear everything’s going to hell in a hand basket.”

“You’re still allowed to disagree with his decisions. Maybe even hate them,” how Yasha’s voice can start so softly, and end dripping with scorn, she could not tell. “Even if they have been hard decisions for everyone.”

Her hand rested over her belly. She thinks of the futures before them. She thinks of Suna’s spiralling economy, unable to pay for the damages it caused in the war. The cost of surrender. She thinks of her husband who bleeds himself dry for a dying nation, nightly. She thinks of her two children, asleep in bed and blissfully unaware. She thinks of her third child. She thinks of the sealing Chiyo has scheduled in two weeks.

Karura nodded her head. “Sure.”

x.X.x

Karura made her way across the streets towards Yashamaru’s house. Ideally, she would have gone through the direct path, looked at nothing and no one along the way. The keys to his house would be in her purse. She would walk inside his cozy apartment and spend the night there. Perhaps, weep to herself and mourn their son’s fate (a demon? Sealing a demon in her baby? Why would you, love? Why?)

Ideally.

Right now, she sat at the edge of the fountain. In the middle of the plaza. Gazing up at the Kazekage tower that loomed overhead.

Karura wanted to cry.

She wanted to have hands that could… do something. Be someone with enough power to influence decisions. Be someone who was smart enough to think of something else. Because _there has to be another way, love. We cannot put this burden on their shoulders before they even learn to walk. Speak? Say I love you?_

But she’s not. She’s not. She’s just a civilian. She’s just one citizen— she wasn’t even fully that prior to marrying Rasa. She’s just a mom... And she was nothing like her own mom who stood tall, and proud, and knew the universe like the back of her hand. No. She was ultimately just the 7 year old girl who cried herself to sleep in a bed that wasn’t hers. In a home that will never be hers.

Karura turned towards the fountain. But even her reflection had nothing. Just quiet contemplation.

And green eyes staring back at her.

_Go. Do something._

x.X.x

Karura walked the dark and silent corridors of the Kazekage tower. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was going— but every foot forward told her that she was going in the right direction. Something inside her was telling her that this was the right thing to do.

The only thing to do. Because she will not stay idle. Not for this.

She skipped the council room. Skipped the meeting rooms. The rooms where they decoded messages from other villages. She passed by a man who did not so much as glance her direction.

Karura stopped beside a particular door. She felt the chill in the air. A low gruff voice reverberating from within. Her heart sank to the pit in her stomach— and she knew. A hand laid protectively over her belly.

Before she got to where she needed to go. Where her feet led her and her heart pulled her further—— Karura passed by the Kazekage’s office. It was the only room with the lights still on, peering from beneath the door.

Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure where she needed to go. Karura thinks, and thinks twice, and maybe she should trust Rasa. Maybe this was… for the best. He is always thinking of the best for them. Right? She reached out for the door knob, only for something to freeze her hand.

_Not now, child. His intentions are well, but he is blind to the consequences. Come with me._

And she continued walking all the way up to the roof deck. The cold chill met her head on when she opened the door—— pushed a step back, but Karura held her ground. Continued forward. One step. And another. And then another. Until she reached the centre and—-

The wind stilled.

Karura lifted her head up to gaze at the clear evening sky. It was as if the stars were looking down on them.

And she felt a peace descend on her. It was a bit heavy but warm, like a comforting hand on the shoulder in the middle of all these trials and tribulations. She turned towards that comfort and found a woman beside her—— long red hair braided to the side, henna painted hands on her shoulder, and sharp green eyes staring back at her with a familiarity she’s missed.

All these years.

 _Yes, child. All those years I could not be with you._ The woman moved in front of her. She was decked in the most beautiful red sari with gold bells singing to the wind as she moved. _All those years I could not teach you— could not give you your birthright._

Then, the woman held her hand up. A mandala drawn intricately at the palm of her hand. Karura held up her hand too— and slowly, tentatively, laid it against her mother’s.

_But I will show you now— it’s always been in your blood._

When the woman moved her hand, Karura’s was a perfect mirror of it. Their arms drawn towards a graceful arc. Now, her feet were moving before she could will them to— moving in time with her mother’s. Forward when her mother moves back, like an odd dance she doesn’t remember learning.

They turned around the centre.

Karura reached for her bag and found… coloured sand. Colored sand sprinkled into a circle around the centre of the roof deck. And then slide— slide out, then circle back in. Creating shapes and forms, adding more reds and blues and whites. Karura looked at her mother, gliding effortlessly. Her feet never seemed to disturb the sand. Neither did it create the shapes and forms that Karura did.

And yet the more she watched her mother—- the more sure her steps became. Steps she’s never learned. Because her mother was right.

It’s always been in my blood.

Now Karura closed her eyes, and moved to a rhythm she couldn’t be more sure of. She could not see the color of the sand— only that it felt right. To slide back and forth. Trace shapes and—— not shapes, but old words.

Ancient and forgotten words.

Karura opened her eyes and stood in the middle of a mandala. Her feet were now red with henna. The ink turned into dragon flies and butterflies that flew up through her skin. They brought with them vines and flowers. They flapped their wings and flew—— all the way up her legs, and her hips. Paisleys circled into a flower over her still growing belly. All the way up until they reached her back, her arms.

The leaves opened to become eyes.

Then Karura saw.

And she knew.

Her mother stood in front of her and pulled from her sleeve a tea kettle, larger than any she’s ever seen. Green eyes met indigo. _Take it, child._

She reached for the kettle. It was heavy— but not in the way that a concrete block was heavy. It was the kind that gripped at her bones— burrowed in deep and made gashes where no one could see. The henna seal on her skin held the demon in tightly. 

Indigo eyes met angry gold ones. A loud drunken laugh. Claws against her skin.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to fall down against this new weight in her limbs. 

But she mustn’t. 

“Generations ago,” Karura whispered to herself, whispered to the demon before her. “We had been mediums, bridges, the very pillars of knowledge a society stood on.” She held that demon in tighter. “We could heal; we could smoke flesh and turn the weather; we could call upon spirits larger than you’ll ever be.”

Tighter.

/Those were forces more powerful than you. You who have never even touched magic. You are but a girl./

Karura almost snarled— but it shifted into a smile. “You and I will have to get to know each other better. You’ll have a lifetime to warm up to me.”


	2. Mischief Managed

This is it.

Months and months honing their ability to cast charms (from skipping skittles to excessive giggling until one turned blue— but that only happened once!) culminates in the singular and most important day of all.

April Fools.

Yashamaru was waiting for Anko in their small hideout. The old abandoned tower was at the perfect height to see who was coming into the area, and far enough from most buildings so that they could be laughing and laughing yet remain undisturbed. 

They’ve made it their home for a few months now. Pillows on the floor. A mat. The fuzziest blanket, charmed to become warm when the outside is cold. They even stored a few snacks in the area. (And if Yasha were pressed, perhaps a few potions from his sister’s stash.) Yasha knew that, at some point, Anko had to go back to Drumstrang and this small area they called theirs would house more memories than things.

But that would be later. And now would be trying to one up each other on the kinds of pranks they played.

Yashamaru has done a number. Karura’s morning milk shake was charmed so that laughing would produce a number of bubbles that would float into the air— as a courtesy, he thought the bubbles should smell a bit minty when they waft around the room. The morning breakfast was a hoot and half— Karura hasn’t figured out it was him yet.

He has a special prank for Anko. Well— ish. Yashamaru had left a box of Anko’s favourite Japanese sweets in the common room. Most would know it’s hers and wouldn’t touch it. But it would be too big to eat in one go, and if bitten and laid down— it would multiply! (One had to sacrifice taste after probably the 5th bite since the magic couldn’t make more dango than already existed). But still! A never ending mess of dango.

But Yasha thinks his funniest prank was the one with Sasori. He would save that retelling for when Anko made it up.

“You’re so obvious, Yasha!” he heard Anko laugh from outside the door. He opened it to see Anko holding up the box of dango he got her.

“Hah! You think you’re being all sneaky— but you’re the only one who knows how much I love these. So you’re primary suspect number one.”

“You haven’t opened it yet?”

“No,” Anko announced, “Because you’re going to try it for me.”

Yashamaru smiled, “Alright.”

“Unafraid?”

“It’s a generally harmless prank,” Yashamaru laughed, opened the box, and bit into one. Fully expecting the dango to reshape itself and become whole again.

It did not. Instead, it was Yashamaru’s face which reshaped itself into a twisted... bleach. The kind of face that says /I bit into a lemon/ or /Too much soy sauce/ or “Anko, what——“ Yashamaru looked at the half eaten dango, then back to Anko’s triumphant look. 

He scrunched his nose. Anko laughed. “Switched the sugar for salt?”

“It’s a classic,” she laughed and took a seat by his side. “Though the multiplying dango was funny.” Then the laugh turned into a grim expression. “Until I started to play with it and covered the entire desk. That thing has a life of its own!”

“I tried to give it some life,” Yashamaru laid down the… terribly salty… sweet on the box. “So,” he announced. The session is in order. “Which one of your pranks are we looking for today? I played one on Sasori and his shoes. Well, all of his shoes. Thought I’d charm a small toilet paper at the bottom of each pair, and the more he tries to get it out—— the longer it would get.”

“Oooh my god!” Anko laughed, “He would hate that. Though— which Sasori?” she asked, because there were two of them (Not twins, not even vaguely related to each other as far as they were concerned. Both orphaned and living with their grandmother, apparently. Interestingly, they were not of the same house, and that had been the easiest way to differentiate them from each other. Except when they were feeling mischievous for the day.)

Yashamaru and Anko looked at each other. Wide eyed.

“I pranked Ravenclaw Sasori. Mostly just charmed his umbrella so every time he opened it, or kept it open, there would be a rain of flowers. The pink cherry blossoms he hates. Who did you prank?”

“Ravenclaw Sasori.”

Except the answer did not come from Yashamaru. It came from behind the slightly ajar door. If they opened it, they would find a very angry red head in his blue robes, with pink petals all over him, and a very, very, very, very long strip of toilet paper at the end of his shoe.

“Yashamaru,” Anko’s voice was hushed, “Apparate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This comes from an RP partner and I having a Sasori muse each, and hence there are two Sasoris who look almost exactly like each other and one very unlucky Sasori.


	3. Love Potion No. 9

“They’ll be fine, Karura,” Sasori laid a hand over her phone and gently let her set it down. “Yashamaru and Anko will take good care of Gaara. Plus, your mom is in the house too.”

Karura laughed, “You’re right,” she left the phone on the counter. “I— I worry too much.”

“You’re getting much better,” Sasori popped a few of the complimentary peanuts into his mouth. “War fucks up with a lot of things. Not that I’d know.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, like it would bring him a few centimetres away from the topic.

Sasori half-expected Karura to say something against him. Against the years he’s disappeared from her life. Not that she ever did—- not that she ever sounded like she would. But the thought played in his head like a tumor that couldn’t be excised.

Instead, Karura shrugged the comment off. “Nah, I know it does things. But I’m the one who made it worse,” a sigh, “especially for Rasa. I bet he didn’t think it would all end up in shambles when we got married.” Then a laugh. Quick, Karura! Switch the topics. “Though when they said that a few Interns from the Department of Mysteries vanish every so often, I didn’t think it was true.” She finished with a much softer voice now, “But I’m glad you came back.”

“It was good to see daylight again,” Sasori laughed.

So did Karura— and for a moment it was as if their eyes had lingered a second too long.

“So,” Sasori started again, “Giggle water and fire whiskey?”

“Muggle bars don’t have that sort of thing, Sasori,” she reminded, “But! We’re here cuz I have something I thought you’d like to try. Excuse me!” Karura called out to the barkeep and whispered out the order. Obviously excited about her surprise.

The barkeep came back with a bottle of red alcohol. It didn’t look special. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was the smile Karura had.

Definitely more mischievous than it was warm.

She poured two shots. “Ready?”

Sasori eyed her with great suspicion. “What’s this?”

“A shot.”

One. He meets her eyes.

Two. She nods her head.

Three. They both take a shot and—— fire hits the back of Sasori’s throat, resulting in a coughing fit, and for his cheeks to turn a bright pink.

“Whew!” Karura laughed when she finished hers. Sasori found himself laughing too. “So,” she asked, “What did you think?”

He pretended to think about it. “Well, it’s no fire whiskey. But I like how it hits. Pity it doesn’t give you that fiery courage— just a bit of intoxication before battle.”

“It’s chili vodka! I like the spiciness, and— battle’s just starting, Sasori,” Karura poured another one in. “Well, we didn’t actually drink before battles. Especially, you know—“

“Pregnancy.”

“Yeeaah,” they take another shot. “It’s a work out, sometimes. Baby at your boob. Death eaters at your tail.”

“Can’t imagine. And here I thought you’d go into potions making when we were done with school.”

A pause. A pause that was too heavy. They had made those plans together back then, didn’t they?

“The Department of Mysteries took my partner away,” Karura, who obviously had no plans of pacing herself as she poured another, said.

“Do you still want to?”

“Want to?”

“Make potions together, I mean? Well, I can’t exactly leave my work but—“

“Well,” Karura let the shot glass rest on her hands, “I might be willing to over see the sales myself if someone sneaks some amortentia out.” Karura winked, “I hear they have a fountain of it somewhere.”

She laughed before Sasori could answer, “I’m only joking!” A hand on his arm, “I’m not even sure if there’s one there.” She paused, eyes on him, hoping to pry out a few things.

“I will neither confirm nor deny anything but,” Sasori, who has learned a few tricks without wands, willed her shot glass to slide over to his side. “I am willing to discuss a potions shop if someone paces herself.”

Karura laughed while Sasori asked for some water for both of them. And fries. Or something equally greasy so he doesn’t have to carry her home.

x.X.x

“You’re having too much fun here,” Sasori placed their payment on the table. Except that he had to check and check twice because— he could have sworn a decimal moved on his own. Either that or muggle alcohol was rather expensive. “We’re going home.”

“No!” Karura protested, sipping on an already empty glass. “We shared the last daiquiri. I demand one of my own!”

“We shared that last one because you’re having too much alcohol,” Sasori gently led her by the hand to the door. They were both laughing, drunk on giggle water they couldn’t purchase in a muggle bar. “Can you even apparate home properly?”

Karura stood. And almost tripped. And then laughed— because that was a very clear no.

Sasori rolled his eyes, the way he did back when they were kids and he would tease her because she always insisted that she’ll control herself with those chocolates (she never does, she always makes too much, and he always has to eat it).

“It’s alright,” Sasori couldn’t help it when he held her hand tighter, “I’ve got you.”

“You always have, haven’t you?” Karura stumbled beside him. Unto the darker corner of the street where the muggles won’t see them disappear into thin air.

“No,” came the barely heard reply, the alcohol letting the words roll off his tongue easier now “If I always had your back, it wouldn’t have been like this.”

“Like what?” They’ve stopped at their chosen spot, and Karura hasn’t let go of Sasori’s hand yet. “Divorced, not living with two of my three kids, and staying over at your house while I try to get my shit together?”

“Yeah… Hey, you know I don’t hear you curse often—“

“If you hadn’t disappeared after graduation,” Karura took a step closer, “Maybe we’d be running that potions store together. We did make a great pair back in Hogwarts.”

Sasori can feel the alcohol turn his cheeks pink. Though he doesn’t think a racing heart is one of their side effects. Then again, he doesn’t know much about muggle intoxication.

“Maybe,” Sasori slid a hand around her waist, waiting for some resistance. There was none. “We’d still be a pair.”

“We could still be.” 

Karura sealed the distance and Sasori could taste the fire on his lips. A heat melting into him as they disappeared into thin air.


End file.
